


Peace by Claw, Order by Fang

by Xomniac



Category: Original Work
Genre: Action/Adventure, Fantasy, Gen, Original Universe, Talking Animals
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-19
Updated: 2015-06-19
Packaged: 2018-04-05 03:19:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4163718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xomniac/pseuds/Xomniac
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the world of Fera, two lands are locked in bitter internal struggles- The paradisical land of Niran, where kingdoms squabble against one another in unending conflict, heedless to the plights of their citizenry, and the hellish desert land of Balta, where lawlessness reigns and bandits roam unchecked. Follow the journeys of two people, one from each land, as they endeavor to quell the bloodshed and violence that define their homes and bring peace.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

Light snoring wafted through the dark, dusty attic. Everything was calm and peaceful... save for the muffled shouting and flickering orange light just outside the attic’s window.  
  


**-o-**

  
A figure wholly enshrouded in a long dark brown cloak trudged solemnly through the desert, wind and sand whistling around him. The figure’s head slowly raised up as he caught sight of a figure on the horizon.  
  


**-o-**

  
The snoring continued for a minute or so before suddenly cutting off with a snort. The attic was silent for a minute before a few snuffling sounds sounded out. A few more seconds of silence, and then a scrabbling of motion towards the window.  
  


**-o-**

  
The two figures stared at each other, separated by a few scant meters of scalding hot sand. One was noticeably taller than the other, hunched over and twitching slightly. Both stared at each silently, their bodies hidden within the confines of their robes. No words were exchanged, no motions made.  
  
Suddenly, several weights dropped out of their cloaks and onto the sand. The figures charged each other simultaneously.  
  


**-o-**

  
A figure launched itself out the window, landing heavily in street below.  
  
A pair of figures carrying torches charged at the figure, snarling furiously and lashing out at him with blood-stained daggers.  
  
The first figure dashed between the two, his arms lashing out. The two only managed a single step forwards before collapsing, gurgling pitifully as their throats sprayed blood onto the ground.  
  
The figure didn’t even slow down, running through the smoke and flames of the burning village.  
  


**-o-**

  
The figures reached each other in seconds.  
  
The taller one lashed out first, a flash of green slicing out and rending a gash in the sand.  
  
The shorter figure barely rolled to the side in time to avoid the attack. He responded by jerking his right arm out. A silver crescent-shaped scimitar slammed down on the inwardly curved green blade, forcing it into the sand. He then swung out with his left, sending a similarly-shaped scimitar towards the taller figure.  
  
The taller figure responded by catching the blade with its own verdant weapon. The two figures struggled relentlessly with each other, neither gaining nor losing any ground.  
  


**-o-**

  
The figure dashed to and fro through the village, lashing out at the bandits as they leapt out at him, cutting them down before they could even get close to him.  
  
All around him, the village was burning to the ground, smoke pouring out of the villages destroyed windows. The worst part was the near silence. No shouting, no screaming... only silence.  
  
Increasing his pace, the figure darted towards the town square, tearing a chunk out of another bandit’s side.  
  
Reaching the square, he skid to a halt, eyes widening in shock. His worst fears had been confirmed... only far,  _far_  worse then he could have imagined.  
  
Lying on the ground, impaled by shafts of wood and metal, were close to a dozen more bandits, dead or dying. One of them, clothed in a far higher quality of clothing and armor, was obviously the leader.  
  
Strewn amongst the bandits were men, women and children, wearing simple clothes cut out of cloth. Their faces were frozen in expressions of abject pain and terror.  
  
Standing amongst the bodies were five huge armored horses. Sitting astride them were several heavily armored figures, all bearing multiple spears across their back. They were trotting their mounts back and forth through the corpses, occasionally ripping the weapons out of the or plunging them into anyone they saw move.  
  
The figure stared at them in horror for a second before snarling furiously and stalking forwards.  
  


**-o-**

  
Without warning, the wanderers broke their blade lock, lashing out at each other in a flurry of slashes, parries, and counter-parries. They slid around each other in a vicious dance of death, kicking up a flurry of sand as their feet flew across the dunes, the unstable footing presenting absolutely no challenge whatsoever.  
  
Suddenly, the taller individual blurred out of sight, appearing behind the shorter person and lashing out anew.  
  
Without missing a beat, the figure twisted his arm around and brought his sword up, blocking the green scythe with his scimitar.  
  
He then repeated the taller figure’s moves, disappearing and reappearing behind him, ready to strike.  
  
From there, the fight evolved, both figures blurring in and out across the sand. Where the particles had been in turmoil before, now they were kicked up into an absolute frenzy, spraying around and forming a miniature dust devil.  
  


**-o-**

  
“Halt!” One of the soldiers grunted harshly as the figure strode forwards, unslinging a a spear from his back and lowering it towards him. “Identify yourself, interloper!”  
  
The figure ignored the order, slowly sweeping his head back and forth as he observed the massacre. “What. In the name. Of  _Vastum_  happened here!?” He breathed.  
  
Another soldier grunted noncommittally. “We are soldiers of the great Lord Daravcan. We have been pursuing these  _mongrels!”_  He stabbed down at a nearby corpse furiously, “For the past day or so. And finally, we have exterminated them. Now, as I said, ide-!”  
  
“What about the civilians?” The figure growled under his breath. “Women and children... this land is under Daracan’s protection. Why did you kill them?”  
  
A third soldier let out a dark chuckle as he gazed about the square. “These fools... they decided that they no longer required our lord’s righteous rule. Spurned his generous requests for funding. And as such they paid the price. They were no better scum than the bandits.”  
  
The figure swept his head across the bodies morosely for a final time before bowing his head. “...I see. Might I ask a final question?”  
  
The soldiers glanced at each other in confusion. “What is it?”  
  
“Do any of you... pray to anybody?”  
  
“We worship the Great Mother, as all good people do. Why?”  
  
“Good. Start praying.”  
  
“For what?”  
  
“For  _mercy.”_  
  
And with that, he leapt at the soldiers, howling with fury.  
  


**-o-**

  
One moment.  
  
A single moment was all it took, one single, fatal mistake.  
  
A stretch of sand just a  _slight_  bit looser than the rest of the surroundings.  
  
The taller individual placed a foot down.  
  
The sand collapsed.  
  
The individual fell.  
  
In a flash, the shorter figure was over him. Blade locked against blade...  
  
But now the figure’s head was far closer. In a flash, he snapped his neck out, latching his jaws around his opponent’s neck with a crunching of chitin and exoskeleton.  
  
A single push of will, a life-long reflex... and it was done.  
  
Slowly, easily, he removed his fangs from his enemy’s neck and slowly stood back up.  
  
The taller figure lay on the ground, twitching and spasming helplessly, letting out grunts and wheezes of pain.  
  
He stared down at him for a moment... before slowly leaning backwards and falling on his rear. The figure stared at him in quiet disbelief, “Why?” The question came out in a croaked whisper. “Why did you attack me? I... I would have just let you pass... maybe asked for a trade... why?”  
  
The shuddering figure slowly turned its hooded head in disbelief, staring at the victor in awe. “W-what?” He wheezed in a weary, wavering voice. “B-but... I thought... I th-thought that... weren’t you... w-weren’t you... going to attack...  _m-me?”_  
  
The victor’s jaw dropped open in shock as he searched for something,  _anything_  to say.  
  
If he found the words, he found them too late. The defeated opponent let out a final gurgle before laying still, leaving the survivor to stare down at him in horror.  
  


**-o-**

  
The figure huffed heavily, as he stared down at the remains of the soldiers.  
  
He swept his head back and forth, staring at the dead village as it burned down around him.  
  
Slowly, he crouched down on his haunches, clamping his claws over his muzzle as he tried to block out the smell of burning fur, scrunching his eyes shut so that he wouldn’t have to watch as wool was stained black by falling ashes.  
  
“This... this isn’t right...” He breathed miserably.  
  


**-o-**

  
The figure slowly reached his arm up and drew his hood back, letting his own naturally scaled hood glimmer in the harsh desert sun.  
  
He tilted his head back, staring up miserably into the sky.  
  
His forked tongue snaked out between his lips, running up and down his fangs, tasting at the amber ichor that stained them.  
  
He sat there silently for a minute before sighing heavily.  
  
“This is insane...”  
  


**-o-**

  
Slowly, the lupin's eyes opened and he turned his head towards the sky, staring up at the moon that shone down on him.  
  
“Someone has to stop the fighting...”  
  


**-o-**

  
The orbanak let his head hang, scrunching his eyes shut as he stared down at the dunes.  
  
“This madness... needs to be put to an end...”  
  


**-o-**

  
_“If no one else will do it... then it might as well start with me.”_  
  


  
**-o-**

**Peace by Claw, Order by Fang**  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An index of Feran species can be found at the end of this work.


	2. Chapter 2

  
**Chapter 1 - Claw**

**2 Years Later**

_Fera._

_By all rights, a garden world, full of nature and life. A pure world, much unlike our own once was, unsullied by technology’s influence._

_But it is by no means perfect._

_Like all seemingly perfect things, it is marred by the same curse that afflicts our own: the sapience of its inhabitants, the ferans._

_The ferans are a unique people. They vastly resemble animals from all walks of life, but are far larger, and far, far more intelligent._

_And, like all intelligent beings, they are rarely at peace._

_The ferans live in disarray upon the two supercontinents that compose their world: The mammalia, aves and aquidae live in a constant state of unrest upon and around Niran, while the stel’lio, vol’cris and ra’na whip Balta into an eternal state of blood and madness._

_However... soon, this manic yet constant equilibrium will experience an unprecedented upheaval at the hands of two forces working simultaneously._

_Currently, the force located in Niran is taking the first true step towards changing the world._

**-o-**  


Lermor Moonclaw hummed contemplatively as he stared deep into his own eyes via the murky reflection that his drink was displaying.  
  
Lermor was a lupin: a wolf-person. He bore a deep resemblance to the higher canines, what with the salt-and-pepper fur that covered his body, his occasionally flicking pointed ears, the tail waving languidly behind him and his long, pronounced muzzle. If anything, the crescent-shaped scar that curved across the bridge of his snout only made him appear even more bestial, giving him a sort of feral air.  
  
But, like all ferans, there the similarities to his primitive counterparts ended. Unlike common wolves, Lermor was far larger, his body-shape more equivalent to that of an ape than a dog. He balanced easily on his hind legs, which led down to large, elongated combinations of paws and feet. His torso was well-toned, not overly muscular but far from scrawny. His upper limbs were extensive, arms that stretched out and ended in a pair of clawed ape-like hands.  
  
Perhaps the greatest aspect of him that set him apart from other base animals were his clothes. He was wearing a dark gray shirt and pair of pants that hugged his body comfortably. Latched over his chest was a loose set of plate mail. It wasn’t overly large or heavy, worn more as a sign of protection than for the protection itself. His legs and forearms were clad in greaves and gauntlets composed of a worn, dark metal.  
  
Lermor tapped one of his claws against the side of his mug thoughtfully, idly observing as the resulting ripples disrupted the once still liquid’s surface, “So...” He stated, his voice deep and thoughtful. “You’re certain. The Scourge is here?”  
  
The siluris behind the bar grunted in agreement, not looking up from the glass he was polishing, the the high-noon sunlight streaming in through the windows gleaming off of his slick mud-brown skin and long, drooping whiskers. “No doubt about it. The thing’s here alright. All the signs: fishin’ spots have gone dead, a few trawlers get tipped over with zero survivors,  _despite_  there being well-trained aquidae on board-”  
  
CRASH!  
  
“WHOOPS! HEY BARKEEP, ANOTHER CUP! BAHAHAHA!”  
  
The mug cracked slightly in the siluris’s grip as he growled and glared darkly at another table in the tavern, “And the rabble have all crawled out whatever hole they call home.”  
  
Lermor turned his head to stare in the same direction and drew his hackles up into an irritated scowl.  
  
Situated at a table in one of the darker corners of the bar were a trio of relatively heavily armored and boisterous individuals. The first, the largest and bulkiest, had the telltale horns and nose ring of a tauros. The second, shorter and squatter, had a moderately sized set of tusks that identified him as a scrofus. The third was lean and skinny. If the snow-white plumage running down his arms and red dot on his beak weren’t obvious enough signs, his harsh, keening laugh was all one needed to hear to tell that he was a laridae.  
  
Littered around their table was an array of ‘accidentally’ broken mugs. It seemed like half of the alcohol they had been drinking had gone over themselves rather than down their throats.  
  
“You can’t be serious...” Lermor growled acidically.  
  
“The only reason I  _am_  is that they’re toting real gold,” The bartender sighed heavily. “Damn mercenaries. At least the initial flow the Scourge brings can sustain the town for the period of time when all business goes ‘belly-up’. But until then, we’re stuck dealing with every starry-eyed wannabe with a net and a sword traipsing out to sea, emptying their pockets because they think that once they bag it ‘they’ll never need to work again’. Blessings and curses...” He gave Lermor a searching look, the gills on the side of his neck flaring slightly as he heaved a weary sigh. “At least  _you’re_  slightly more tolerable. It’ll be a shame when your corpse washes up on the shore.”  
  
“Such confidence. I am deeply moved.”  
  
“I’m a bartender. We call ‘em as we see ‘em.” The siluris turned his gaze on the trio of sell-swords, raising his voice. “And what I  _see_  is that you three have run out of coin.” The heavy-set aquatic individual. reached beneath his bar and withdrew a heavy plank of wood, thumping it on the bar menacingly. “Clear out before I  _make_  you clear out, got it?”  
  
The trio’s laughter cut off abruptly as the three mercenaries stared at each other quietly, their alcohol-addled minds taking an inordinate amount of time to wrap their heads around the concept of losing access to their supply of booze. Finally, the three came to a simultaneous decision, shakily standing up from their seats as they fingered the weapons sheathed on their backs.  
  
“Actually...” The tauros rumbled menacingly. “I don’t think we have. After all, you’re holding on to all  _our_  coin plus interest. Personally, I say we take it back.” The bull-person jerked his arm a bit, allowing the light to glint off of the massive blade he was toting. “Get the idea?”  
  
The bartender’s nerve wavered slightly at the turn of events, which he displayed as he swallowed heavily. But before he could say anything, Lermor stood up and turned to face the three, his fangs leering at them menacingly. “Or, and this is just a thought...”  
  
The lupin jerked his wrist in a practiced flick. Almost instantly in response, a hidden mechanism in his gauntlet triggered, allowing several thin sheets of metal to slide over his hand and encase his fingers in claws of steel.  
  
Lermor harshly dug the blades into the bar, gouging out several small furrows. “You three  _leave_  this fine establishment the hell alone, and I  _don’t_  show you your livers. ‘Get the idea?’” He growled darkly.  
  
The mercenaries stared at him silently for a good long while. Luckily for them, they came to the right idea. With a scarcely hidden amount of grumbling and cussing, the trio turned around and trudged out of the bar.  
  
For a moment, all was silent. Then...  
  
“You gonna pay for that?” The barkeeper smirked, jabbing a thumb at the scars in his bar.  
  
Lermor chuckled sheepishly as he flicked his wrist again, retracting the blades before he scratched his head sheepishly. “Hehe... sorry about that. Put it on my tab?”  
  
The siluris let out a deep belly laugh as he began to walk towards the end of the bar. “A smart guy, eh?  _Real_  shame that you’re gonna die. After all, you’re not an absolute idiot, so your purse ain’t picked clean yet.” He turned his head to eye the lupin contemplatively as he started to clean up the area the sell-swords had been sitting at. “You sure you don’t wanna donate the last of it before you go fishing?”  
  
Lermor snickered a bit under his breath as he drained the last of his ale and thumped the mug on the table. “No thanks, I’ll keep it on me. Meanwhile, you’ll keep ahold of my things, right?”  
  
“One weeks time. After that, everything goes to the highest bidder.”  
  
“Sounds good to me. Thanks for the drink.” Lermor started to head for the exit, but once he reached it, he froze with his hand on the door. “Oh, and barkeep?”  
  
The siluris glanced up curiously from his work. “Hm?”  
  
The lupin craned his neck around to shoot him a calm grin. “I’m not going fishing. I’m going  _hunting.”_  
  
And with that, he left the bar and headed for his goal.

  
**-o-**

_The first of Fera’s twin continents is Niran._

_In comparison to its twin, Niran is a paradisical land, with massive forests ranging from tropical to temperate, clean, pure lakes, breath-taking cliffs and valleys, and grasslands that extend as far as the eye can see._

_However, just because Niran might appear to be perfect does not necessarily mean that it is. One thing that it is_ not _is equal._

_In Niran, the laws of life are quite clear: those who are more powerful, more wealthy, more... everything, rule, and those who are less serve._

_And so it has been: mighty mammalia kings ruling in their castles and over-looking the land, wealthy aquidae merchant-lords hoarding their riches in their submerged palaces, and pompous members of the aves aristocracy playing out their sociopolitical ploys from within the safety of their aeries._

_In this hierarchy, one law is iron-clad, recognized by all: Those who are strong reign over those who are weak. As it always has been... as it always shall be._

_But there is an addition that remains unwritten and unheard: The strongest of all will take this law, and alter it beyond recognition._

**-o-**  


  
It was late into the night by the time Lermor began trudging down along the the sandy coast line, flanked on his left by a large set of cliffs and by the sea on his right. The lupin’s nose was turned up to the air as he breathed in deeply, taking in the salty wind, searching for one scent in particular.  
  
Finally, he lowered his head and nodded his head lightly. “There you are...” He muttered to himself.  
  
Lermor started to jog down the shoreline, occasionally taking a fresh whiff of scent from the air to make sure he had not strayed from the path.  
  
Suddenly, he slid to a halt, frowning in confusion as he redoubled his sniffing. After a few seconds, he turned towards the sea and began padding towards the crashing waves. He narrowed his eyes slightly as he searched the dark waters by the faint moonlight.  
  
Finally, he shot a hand into the water, withdrawing a large object from the waves with a hiss of exertion.  
  
The lupin took a single glance at the tauros arm he was holding before growling in exasperation and tossing it away. “Damn fools. Going in blades held high only works for so long. May the Great Mother teach you better.”  
  
With that, he walked back onto the sand, turning his head back and forth slowly as he searched and searched for his target. Finally...  
  
Lermor grinned eagerly as he eyed the cave that he had been looking for. He could tell that it was the correct one thanks to the scent wafting out of it: a combination of algae, fish... and blood.  
  
“There we go, there we go...” The lupin took a step towards the cave before halting and staring upwards at the moon. He hummed contemplatively as he observed the silver sickle illuminating the night sky. “Crescent moon. New beginnings. Dreams made reality...” Me murmured contemplatively. “I’m not a pious person, but Great Mother, if you’re listening, have mercy on this poor soul’s venture tonight.”  
  
And with that, he stepped into the darkness.  
  
The cave was dank and moist, the sound of water dripping from the roof echoing here and there. Here and there, patches of wall and floor were faintly illuminated by a weakly glowing teal moss. If anything, the lighting gave the cavern a sort of... ethereal aspect, as though the place were underwater.  
  
Still, even with the faint glow, the cave might as well have been enshrouded in pure darkness. Nevertheless, Lermor navigated through the obscured surroundings with ease thanks to his acutely trained nose, the smells of the walls and water giving him a rough outline of his surroundings. It was more like a blurry image than anything, but it was enough.  
  
At long last, Lermor reached his destination. An opening, a large cave with a shaft leading from the roof all the way to the surface, allowing the moon to shine down into the grotto. The hollowed out area of rock was... cluttered, was one way of putting it. Here and there were bits and pieces of natural memorabilia and supplies. Dried out fish skins, piles of salted meats, shark teeth and even the occasional wood and metal flotsam and jetsam from what had to be age-old shipwrecks. In the exact center of the cave, beneath the skylight, were the remains of a burned-out fire.  
  
The lupin narrowed his eyes contemplatively as he swept his gaze over the cave. He slowly padded towards the fire-pit, digging his claws into the ashes and trailing his fingers around in it aimlessly. Lermor held up a chunk of charcoal in front of his eyes, examining it thoroughly.  
  
“Newly burnt.” He mused. “He was here about a day ago, so he’s most likely still out there hunting.” The wolf-person grunted dusting his hands off as he stood up. “And he’ll be back too. And I do  _not_  want to meet him in here if I can.”  
  
As quick as he dared with the cave’s slippery floor, Lermor spun around and darted through the cave, navigating the winding stone passageway by memory. It only took him about five minutes to exit the caverns, far better then the ten it had taken him to enter it.  
  
However, it mattered little as the lupin slid to a halt mere moments after darting out of the cave’s mouth.  
  
Lermor stared ahead of him, slowly working his jaw in disbelief.  
  
Standing on the beach, still dripping wet and feet still in the water, was a behemoth of an aquidae. The figure was silhouetted by the overhead moonlight, but several distinctive facts were obvious. First, he was  _massive,_  towering head and shoulders above Lermor. Second, he was heavily armored, a suit composed of a combination of metal scrap and dried out shark skin. Third, his hands were full: clutched in his left was a large net filled to the brim with struggling fish, and in his right was a simple yet menacing trident, the prongs still tipped with crimson blood.  
  
Finally, and most pressing of all was the figure’s most menacing feature: a murderous hooked fin that protruded from his hunched back and into the air.  
  
That fin plus that size could only mean one thing: A chordata. And not just  _any_  chordata. The worst, most vicious chordata of all: a chondrich.  
  
Lermor’s eye twitched involuntarily before he slowly tilted his head back and stared up at the sky. “...really?”


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 2 - Fang**

If there is one description of the desert that can never be altered, then it is thus: They. Are. Hot.

  
To be specific, deserts  _transcend_  hot. They reach up into levels of heat far,  _far_  beyond what most individuals are used to. What with the interminable sand, the dauntless sun and the biting wind, one might consider the Baltan deserts to be a terrestrial hell.  
  
Steelfang trudged through the dunes as though they were nothing.  
  
Steelfang was one of the infamous rivan’in, as displayed by the shimmering array of light-beige scales that covered every inch of his visible body. To be more specific, he was one of the orbanak, a fact denoted by the hood of scales protruding from the sides of his head. Emblazoned on the back of his hood was an array of black and white scales formed like a figure ‘U’. Within his mouth were a pair of fangs, folded up against the roof and bottom of his mouth over a forked tongue that occasionally flicked out past his scaled lips.  
  
The orbanak was of medium build, not overly muscled but far from skinny. His arms swung idly at his sides, his fingers tipped by small, slightly spiked scales that barely counted as claws. Hanging down from his lower back and both trailing and slithering through the sand behind him was a tail approximately two-thirds as long as he was tall, and about as thick as his forearm.  
  
Steelfang’s body was encased from neck to the tip of his tail in a suit of dull-white armor. The suit was rounded, smooth like porcelain. There were slits and openings along the borders of each portion of the armor, allowing air to ventilate throughout the metal suit, keeping it nice and cool despite the heat coming from both the sun above and the dunes below. Hanging at his sides, held in place by leather loops on metal hooks in the armor were a pair of crescent-shaped scimitars held in their sheaths. Slung across his back was a leather knapsack.  
  
For hours on end, Steelfang walked.  
  
There was little else to do in the desert. No sights beyond the dunes to be seen, no voices to be heard beyond this whispers or howls of the wind, no smells apart from the ever-present dull scent of the sand and nothing to feel apart from the leather lining the armor’s interior and the grit of the sand. And as for taste... the less said about the taste of dried foods and long-stored water, the better.  
  
Most would consider trudging through the desert alone to be a death sentence for a person’s psyche. A guarantee to slowly go mad and end up little more than a gibbering wreck wandering among the dunes.  
  
Steelfang trudged along solemnly, refusing to deviate or sway from the unseen path he was on. Without even missing a beat, he reached an arm over his back to his knapsack, digging his hand through one of its pockets until he withdrew a small disc of metal. He wordlessly flicked it open, eyed the needle of metal wavering slightly as it pointed unerringly in a single direction, then snapped it shut and slipped it back into his bag.  
  
Suddenly, something slightly ahead of him caught his eyes. Steelfang blinked dully in idle surprise as he kept walking along, paying only a hint of attention as he passed by a partially buried skeleton before turning his gaze back forwards when he noted nothing of value upon the ex-corpse.  
  
On and on and on Steelfang marched without cease.  
  
After all... what else was there to do but walk?

 

 

  
**-o-**

_When compared with each other, Balta and Niran are considered unequal, with Niran often described as being far more civilized than savage Balta._

_To be fair, this is a wholly accurate statement._

_Next to Niran, Balta can easily be viewed as a hellish wasteland. Where Niran is plentiful and abundant with life, only two words can accurately sum up Balta’s landscape: Mountains and Deserts._

_Within the dry continent’s shores, the only places where green might be found are around the hundreds of oases that dot the desert. These pockets of heaven, ranging from tiny to huge, provide the fresh water necessary for the Baltans to survive._

_However, these limited supplies of necessities nigh invariably lead to the single logical conclusion: conflict._

_Balta is a continent of demand, and there is never enough supply to sate it. Whether it be over food, water or shelter, Baltans can find almost_ anything _to fight over._

_By nature and nurture, Baltans are a vicious people, the majority of them well-versed in how to fight one way or the other, whether it be utilizing expertly-honed weapons or their own natural abilities. Venom and steel are the greatest equalizers in Balta, if not all of Fera. These skills often lead to them being hired in Niran as high-quality mercenaries._

_For each and every Baltan, fate seems to be set in stone: the more powerful scaly stel’lio act either alone or together as thugs and bandits, acquiring what they desire up front and in personal whenever they desire it. The water-dwelling ra’na hide in the shadows of the markets they control, either acquiring aid from others in order to protect them, or swiftly dispatching any threats with knives to the back that none see coming. And finally, the numerous and hardy vol’cri only ever have time for themselves or their hives.The only thoughts on their minds are survival._

_In Balta, death is an easy-coming occurrence. Whether it be by nature’s unrepentant fury or another Baltan’s lack of mercy, none are safe from death’s embrace._

_Whereas in Niran the law of life is the strong ruling over the weak, in Balta the law is different: Survival of the fittest. Nothing more, nothing less._

_Though Baltans often see little relevance in knowledge, some Niranian intellectuals often pose a rather disheartening question: how much of the Baltan’s cut-throat nature is due to the harsh environment they live in, and how much arises from within themselves?_

_There is one question that is seldom, if ever asked: Who or what could possibly break this nature, and bring order to Balta?_

**-o-**

Steelfang’s march through the desert suddenly slowed and then came to a dead halt as he crested a particularly large dune.  
  
Laid out before him was a relatively small oasis. Large enough to contain a lake, but small enough that none had sought to settle around it. The fresh, dark green water was surrounded on all sides by a ring of reeds, trees and shrubbery.  
  
The orbanak stared silently at the sparse area of vegetation for a moment before taking a step forwards, using his tail as a brake in order to slow his sliding descent down the dune. He came to a halt near the budding reeds.  
  
The cobra-person slowly swept his gaze back and forth over the oasis, taking in the first bit of life he’d seen in a long time. Besides the plants, there was no other life present in the oasis.  
  
Steelfang gazed silently at the water, contemplating it for a minute or so before slipping his pack off his back and dropping it on the ground. He flipped its top open and rummaged through it for a bit before withdrawing a large canteen. He jerked it up and down a bit, listening to the water slosh around in it. Wordlessly, he unscrewed the top of it and took a small swig from it before replacing the cap and slipping it back into his pack.  
  
The rivan’in turned his head towards the sky, contemplating the suns position. Noting how it was starting to slightly dip towards the horizon, he picked his bag up and made his way over towards one of the nearby trees.  
  
He leaned his bag against the base of the tree, reaching deep into the bag’s depths and withdrawing a sand-colored tarp, one side rough and hard-woven, the other relatively soft. Steelfang turned around, putting his back to the tree and gently leaning against his pack before wrapping the tarp around himself, obscuring him from plain sight and hiding him from the sun’s blinding hot rays.  
  
Steelfang glanced around a bit, assuring himself that he was alone, before closing his eyes, bowing his head and allowing his breathing to slow down.  
  
After about five to ten minutes or so, the only noise that could be heard was a light hissing drifting out from within the cloth.  
  
Unseen, several bubbles drifted to the oasis’ surface and popped before a large figure slowly started to crawl ashore.

 

 

**-o-**

  
“Oi. Wakey wakey... anybody home?”  
  
Steelfang slowly stirred out of his sleep. He attempted to move, to flex his arms, but was alarmed to discover his arms and legs bound together. Hastily restricting his emotions, he kept his eyes firmly shut and controlled his breathing, attempting to project an aura of slumber.  
  
“Too late for that, mate. Now, let’s try again: Wakey.  _Wakey!”_  
  
THWACK!  
  
Steelfang grunted in pain when a massive weight slammed into his side, sending him tumbling into the sand. The orbanak winced as pain blossomed from the point of impact. He worked his jaw for a bit before slowly opening his eyes to glare at his captor.  
  
The figure was gargantuan, to say the least. Even under the scant light of the moon and stars, Steelfang could identify his species at a glance: an oa’cra. A massive porosus. His elongated snout was at  _least_  as long as one of Steelfang’s swords, not to mention as wide as his torso. The giant maw was filled to the brim with what had to be an endless expanse of shiny teeth. Running down from the figure’s back was a large, meaty tail as long as the crocodile-person was tall. His torso was encased in a suit of light-green armor.  
  
The oa’cra’s scales glimmered an emerald sheen under the silvery moonlight as he leered down at the captive wanderer.  
  
“G’mornin’ mate. So. Tell me... any final words before I munch down on ya?”  
  
Steelfang stared up at the figure wordlessly before sighing heavily and bowing his head towards his chest.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 3 - Claw**

  
Lermor slowed his breathing as he stared at the huge menace looming before him. He didn’t move, didn’t react, merely stood still and allowed his eyes to adjust to the dark so that he could take in more details about the chondrich.  
  
The first point that stood out about him was his armor: a heavy suit, composed of jagged plates of rusty metal and strips of what appeared to be sharkskin. It was haphazard, primal, but definitely solid.  
  
Tightly clutched in the figure’s right hand was a long trident of aged iron, old bloodstains rusted into the prongs of the weapon. Barbed blades stuck out of the sides of the outer prongs, while the central spike was slightly longer.  
  
Perhaps most damning of all was the chondrich’s sheer  _size._ It was massive, to say the least, towering head and shoulders above Lermor. From what few glimpses of skin the lupin could make out, it was obvious that the person was above and beyond physically fit. The muscles in its tail were taught beneath the rugged gray skin, whipcords of steel made flesh. Criss-crossed along his skin were pale stretches of scar tissue.  
  
The whole time Lermor stared at the chondrich, the chondrich stared at him as well, its eyes blinking at him in numb surprise. The two stared at each other for several minutes in total silence.  
  
Suddenly, the shark-person’s eyes filled with pure, unadulterated rage.  
  
That was the only warning Lermor got before the chondrich released the fish-filled net he was clutching and  _lunged_ at him, jabbing his trident at him with as much strength as he could muster.  
  
The lupin hastily pumped his legs, leaping to the side and barely dodging the weapon. He rolled in the sand and sprang to his feet, glancing back at his opponent. What he saw caused his eyes to widen and his mouth to dry up in fear.  
  
The chondrich’s trident had passed through the space he’d occupied moments before and  _into_ the cave’s stone wall, its prongs sinking about half way into the rock. The chondrich grunted angrily for a second as he jiggled his weapon before ripping it out in a shower of stone, slowly turning to glare at Lermor.  
  
“Ahhhh _shit...”_ The lupin breathed miserably.  
  
The chondrich let out a muffled snarl as he lurched after him, swing his trident in a wide, easily avoided but no less potentially  _devastating_ arc. He followed up by stepping in and swinging his free hand forwards.  
  
Lermor sucked in a hiss of breath as he sidestepped the punch, literally  _feeling_ the air move past the fur on his snout.  
  
However, he  _wasn’t_ ready for the arm suddenly jerking out and the forearm catching him square in his snout. Lermor stumbled back in shock, hissing in pain as he clutched at his snout.  
  
 _‘Yeah, that’s not gonna heal anytime s-!’_ The lupin’s mental tirade was cut off in horror as he felt something wet trickle out of one of his nostrils.  
  
Blood.  
  
He was  _bleeding._  
  
He was bleeding while fighting a chordata _._  
  
He was bleeding while fighting a  _chondrich._  
  
At that instant, only one thought was in the lupin’s mind.  
  
Run.  
  
And so he turned tail and ran.  
  
Disoriented as he was, he was unable to truly run as fast as he wanted, but he  _was_ able to reach a nearby outcropping of stones. Breathing heavily, he darted into the shadows, pressing himself up against the stone as firmly as he could.  
  
 _‘Shitshitshitshit!’_ He mentally berated himself. _‘I am_ so  _dead. Ten seconds into this and I am_ dead!  _I can’t believe this, this is just-!’_  
  
He hissed in a sudden breath of shock as he heard a heavy foot crunch on the ground as it stepped onto the stone.  
  
Lermor clamped his mouth shut as he dug his claws into the stone. His heart hammered violently in his chest as the heavy footsteps stomped towards him.  
  
The lupin swallowed heavily as he heard the chondrich’s heavy breathing drawing closer and closer. _‘Trying to hide from one of the bloodhounds of the sea while bleeding. It’s official, I_ deserve  _to die.’_  
  
All the lupin could do was stare in horror as one of his hunter’s massive, webbed hands reached around the side of the stone and dug into the rock, heaving the rest of his body partly around. Lermor knelt down silently, his hands tensed as he prepared to leap up and start what would most likely be a last-ditch assault.  
  
The chondrich swept its gaze around, searching for its quarry. Lermor tensed as its eyes fell on him, peering at him through the inky darkness.  
  
For what seemed like an eternity, Lermor stared into his eyes, watching, waiting...  
  
Until finally, the chondrich silently turned around and started to walk away.  
  
Lermor remained crouched in place as he stared at where his hunter had been mere moments ago, his ears quivering slightly as he listened to him stomp away.  
  
Even after the sound was gone, the lupin sat silently in the shadows. Finally, he let himself relax, desperately gasping in air as he collapsed against the rock.  
  
“What the famine was  _that?!”_ He muttered to himself. “Did he just... let me go? Why would he even...” Lermor instantly dismissed the thought. “No, no, he wouldn’t. Chordata in blood rages don’t just  _let_ people go. They tear into them,  _devour_ them,” He slowly peered around the rock, staring at the entrance to the cave the chondrich had undoubtedly entered. “So why didn’t he? He should be chomping down on me right about-!” Lermor trailed off as realization hit him head on.  
  
He ran his hand over his mouth in thought, “His teeth... I never saw his teeth, or heard any sniffing..” Lermor started to pace back and force in thought, “And his growling... it was... muffled. His armor? Why would a  _chordata_ of all people cover his mouth? I mean... its completely nonsensical! Chordata _always_ use their teeth... Unless...” He blinked in shock. “He... can’t? Maybe... maybe something’s wrong with him... something that means he can’t bite at me... but what?”  
  
Lermor worked his jaw thoughtfully for a second before sighing heavily and running his hand up his snout and over his head. “Ergh, it doesn’t matter either way. I  _still_ need to talk to him. I need to try...” He gazed morosely at the foreboding cave, casting a baleful glance at the moon before sighing heavily. “Moment of truth...”  
  
And with that, he slowly padded out from behind the rock and made his way towards the cliff-face.  
  
Despite it being his second time in the cavern, he was even more careful with his steps then before. Before, he had not known what to expect. Now he knew exactly what was waiting for him. Chordata hearing might not have been as acute as most other ferans, but it was best not to take any chances in such a situation.  
  
Finally, after what appeared to be an eternity, he heard something.  
  
 _Skritch... skritch... skritch..._  
  
Stones, two of them, scratching together over and over again.  
  
Slowly, haltingly, Lermor pressed himself up against the wall of the cavern, inching himself towards the corner he knew would lead to the cavern. As slowly as he could, he eased his head around, taking in what he could.  
  
There, crouched down in a patch of pale moonlight, was the chondrich. The scratching noise was coming from him as his arms jerked together repetitively. Both his trident and the net of ragged rope lay at his sides. The pile of fish that had once occupied the net lay off to the side.  
  
With great caution, Lermor started to step out from behind the corner. Too late did he notice a rock by his foot as his claws scratched against it.  
  
Chordata hearing was sup-bar,  _not_ awful. This distinction was portrayed when the chondrich jerked around to stare at him in shock before growling under his breath, dropping the rocks he was holding and grasping his net and trident in his webbed hands. Thanks to the light of the moon and moss, Lermor was able to confirm his prior thoughts: a hinged grill of metal was laid out over the chondrich’s mouth, as well as a cone of metal placed over his nose.  
  
“Woahwoahwoah!” Lermor held his hands up in surrender. “It’s okay, it’s okay! I’m not here to fight you, I swear!”  
  
The raggedly-armored chondrich rumbled angrily as he rose to his feet. “L...liar...” He grunted, his voice deep and scratchy. “No... no... person... stops... always fighting... Never... never stopping...”  
  
Lermor slowly shook his head in denial as he kept his arms raised. “I won’t, I  _promise_ you that I won’t fight, alright? No fighting...” He stared at the chondrich for a second before tilting his head and looking past him slightly. “You, uh... you want some help starting that fire?”  
  
The chondrich blinked without comprehension for a second before glancing over his shoulder. His eyes widened in realization as he lowered his head, nodding slowly. “F...fi-yes... trying to... to s-start fire...” He tilted his head so that he could contemplate Lermor. “D-dog person... can help start f-fire?”  
  
The lupin tensed slightly at being called a dog, but breathed heavily through his nose. “He doesn’t know any better, he doesn’t know any better...” He muttered under his breath before raising his voice. “Yes, yes I can. May I?”  
  
The chondrich stared at him silently for a moment before slowly nodding and slowly stepping to the side, keeping an eye on the lupin the whole while.  
  
Lermor swallowed heavily as he padded forwards, keeping a wary watch on the massive aquidae as he slowly approached the fire-pit. The entire time, he kept his pace subdued and his movements obvious. Once he reached the pile of ashes and dried drifted wood, he knelt down, drifting his hand towards a pouch on his belt. He kept his palm nice and obvious as he removed a small bit of flint and a rod of steel. With more caution than necessary, he brought the metal and stone over the wood and jerked his hands, scratching the minerals together and producing a flurry of sparks.  
  
Much to his luck, a flame took hold on the first try, a tiny flame springing up and slowly spreading along the fractured wood.  
  
The chondrich blinked slowly in surprise as he eased his stance up a bit. “Takes...much longer... Doesn't always... work... This... helps... Will... help...”  
  
Lermor swallowed heavily, glancing nervously at the chordata. “I have a spare you can use, if you want. I can give it to you.”  
  
The large aquidae grunted, nodding in agreement.  
  
“So...” The lupin gestured at a place opposite the fire. “Do you mind if I... stay here a bit? Warm up? I mean... you’ve got a lot of fish here so...”  
  
The chondrich seemed to wrestle with the question for a time. Lermor did not consider himself an expert in chordata body language, or even  _aquidae_ body language for that matter, but it seemed clear enough to him that he was deciding whether to let him live or err on the side of caution and kill him now. Deciding that this was not something to push, he patiently waited for an answer.  
  
Finally, the chondrich nodded slowly. “Fine... sit... eat...” He punctuated the statement by nodding at the ground.  
  
Lermor padded around the fire, sitting down and crossing his legs beneath him, twisting his tail around so that it curled around his side.  
  
His host dropped his net to the ground, stomping over to the pile of fish and crouching by it. Slowly, he grasped two of the fish and slid them down on his trident’s middle spike. He then returned to the fireside, haphazardly maneuvering his large tail so that he could sit on the floor. He then rammed the butt of his trident into the floor, jiggling it a bit until it was properly angled and the fish were suspended over the flames.  
  
The two of them sat together in tense silence, staring at the flames. Finally, Lermor spoke up. “So, you uh... know how to cook fish?”  
  
The chondrich was silent for a moment before slowly nodding. “Yes... tried swallowing whole... but got sick... this way... don’t have to taste...” Even with his mouth covered, the sudden tension was made obvious by the way his jaw clenched. “Blood...” He said the word as though he were about to vomit.  
  
Lermor sat up, staring at him in surprise. “Wait you don’t like-!” He cut himself off as he hastily whipped his hand to his nose, rubbing it fervently in an effort to wipe away as much of the dried blood as he could. Once he was done, he attempted to act as nonchalant as possible. “You... don’t like blood? That’s... abnormal for a chordata.”  
  
The chondrich blinked slowly. “A... ab...normal?”  
  
“Err... weird, _not_ normal.”  
  
“And... Chordata... are others... shark people?”  
  
Lupin winced, fighting back against common urges. “Yes and no. They  _resemble_ sharks, yes, but they aren’t  _really_ sharks. It’s insulting- rude? Mean? Makes people angry? There we go - to call another feran, someone like you or me or... anyone who can speak, for that matter, by the animal that their species resembles. Because... they’re animals. Dumb, stupid.  _We_ are ferans. Intelligent. Understand?”  
  
The chondrich stared at him silently for a second before slowly nodding. “Yes... can’t speak... are animals... speakers... ones who fight... who fish... feran...”  
  
Lermor frowned heavily as he stared at the chordata. “About that... you’re... really well known along the coast. The Scourge. Whenever someone tries to fish when you’re around, there’s always the chance that they get pulled into the water, or they’re boat wrecked. Why would you do that?”  
  
The large aquidae was quiet before bowing his head. “Was... accidents... hit nets... got stuck on... bits of metal... Sometimes got pulled up... into... boats? Or pulled someone in... They... shouted... at me... tried... to hurt me...”  
  
The lupin bit his lip nervously before nodding. “That... makes sense. Aquidae -ferans who can breath underwater- stay away from fishing boats and lines. It’s considered to be both rude and stupid to get caught because of how it can get hopes up over a good catch and generally make life a pain for fishermen.”  
  
The chondrich moaned lowly, running his hand over the bridge of his nose.  
  
Lermor stared at him silently for a moment before sighing and crossing his arms. “Listen... I’ve been looking over your kills for awhile now... And one thing always hasn’t made sense to me. When people sometimes find the corpses of those who go out, they often find them torn to shreds, but often, they find all the pieces. And they’re only ripped apart. No bite-marks, no pieces eaten. So that raises the question...” He looked at the chordata curiously. “Why don’t you use your teeth? It’s instinctual for others of your kind. And their nose is their second greatest part, it lets them sniff out almost anything. But why don’t you? Why keep them covered? Why fear blood?”  
  
The chondrich stiffened visibly, slowly curling in on himself as he tried to make himself smaller. “Blood... taste... smell... Makes... m-makes memories come back... mind goes back... world becomes red... and pain... and... and...” His breath started coming out in short and desperate pants.  
  
“Hey hey hey!” Lermor waved his hands hastily, trying to draw his attention. “It’s alright, it’s alright! You’re not there, you’re here! With me! A-and fish!” He hastily leaned forwards, picking up the trident and waving the well-cooked fish before him. “See? Remember the fish? Nice, delicious, crunch-!”  
  
CHOMP!  
  
The lupin blinked in shock as the chondrich suddenly reached behind his neck, undid and removed his faceguard, and clamped his jaws down on the trident’s spokes, swallowing both fish at once. He hummed in satisfaction as he relished the taste of the grilled fish.  
  
“Uhh...” Lermor stared at him in surprise before letting go of the trident’s shaft and letting it clatter to the ground. “Alright th... holy...” He trailed off as he caught sight of the chondrich’s mouth.  
  
Or, to be accurate, what was  _left_ of it. The feran’s lips were a mess of scar-tissue, as though he’d tried to eat a buffet of barnacles. Lermor had heard of predatory Ferans injuring their mouths when they tried to use their teeth in combat. For Terra’s sake, he’d suffered more than his fair share of nicks when going for the throat himself, but  _this?_ This was... _monstrous._  
  
And the worst part of all... Lermor  _recognized_ the shape of some of the scars.  
  
Scratch marks. Left behind by feran claws.  
  
Finally, the chondrich drew the trident out of his mouth and replaced the grill over his mouth. “Mmmph.” He grunted approvingly.  
  
“Uh yeah, you’re... welcome...” The lupin answered nervously.  
  
“Wel-?”  
  
“You’re welcome, way for thanking someone for-” Lermor cut himself off as he groaned in exasperation, running his palm over his face. “You know what? Forget it. Look, how about we introduce ourselves?” He tapped his chestplate with one of his claws. “My name is Lermor. Lermor Moonclaw.”  
  
The chondrich blinked at him slowly. “N... name? What... is a... name?”  
  
Lermor’s jaw dropped open in shock before he hastily snapped it shut. “Names... names are what... define people. They’re how we... differentiate ourselves. Like... you and me... what we are, our species names: I’m a lupin, you’re a chondrich. But me myself, I’m called Lermor. Do you...” He tilted his head in curiosity. “Even know your own name?”  
  
The chondrich’s brow furrowed in thought. “No... no, do not... know name, but... but...” He bowed his head, darting his eyes back and forth for a minute before looking up in shock. “I do! I do know  _a_ name!”  
  
Lermor sat up in shock. “Really? Whose?!”  
  
“R-rai- _Raijax!_ Yes, some...one... called Raijax!” The chondrich nodded eagerly. “Known name for long, long time! Knew it before the pain and the red... knew it even back when I was alone...”  
  
Lermor blinked in confusion for a moment before slowly letting his shoulders slump. “Wait... that’s the only name you can remember... and you’ve _always_ known it? You’re certain?”  
  
The chondrich nodded definitively. “Yes!  _Yes!_ C-c-completely certain!”  
  
“Then... in that case...” Lermor worked his jaw for a second. “I’m not certain but... I think that... Raijax might very well be  _your_ name.”  
  
The chondrich’s jaw slowly dropped open as he shock and realization dawned in his eyes.  
  
For a seemingly interminable amount of time, the cave was silent. Then...  
  
“My name... is Raijax?” The chordata breathed.  
  
“Well...” Lermor rubbed the back of his head nervously. “I mean, there’s no way of con-”  
  
“My name... is Raijax!” The shark-person slowly started to laugh, repeating the phrase. “My name is  _Raijax!_ I... I have... a name! I HAVE A NAME!” Raijax shot his fists up into the air, cackling joyfully.  
  
Suddenly, before Lermor could react, Raijax shot to his feet darted around the fire, engulfing the Lupin in his massive arms and all but  _crushing_ him against his chest.  
  
“Thank you!” He cackled joyfully. “Thank you,  _thank you!_ Feels... feels good! Feels...  _right!”_ Raijax dropped Lermor, clapping both of his hands on his shoulders. “If... there is anything that... that I- that  _Raijax_ can do for you-!”  
  
“There  _is_ one thing!” Lermor piped up hastily.  
  
“What?”  
  
Lermor hastily took a calming breath before looking Raijax in the eyes. “I... I want you to come with me. Inland.  _Away_ from the water.”  
  
Almost instantly, Raijax’s pupils shrunk to pinpricks before he swung around and hastily shook his head. “N-no, no no. C-can’t do that. Never. Never left the water. Only use the caves be-because there’s less animals... also fire...” He snapped his head around to glare at Lermor suspiciously . “Why? Why ask me to come with you? Why did... Lermor come here anyways? Why search out Raijax?”  
  
Lermor stared right back before sighing heavily and slowly sitting back down. “You... must understand. I... I have a goal. A  _big_ goal. A world-changing goal. But to accomplish it, I need help. I need help from strong people. I’ve been searching for these kind of people for awhile now, and... and I think I know who I need. I need legends. Rumors, shadows, those who  _others_ have named because  _no one_ knows who they are. The Hook, the Wind’s Razor...” He looked up and met Raijax’s eyes. “And the Scourge of the Seas.  
  
“I’ve spent awhile researching all of you. I know the general area where the Razor stays, I’ve got a fairly good idea of where the Hook’s next mark is, but I  _only_ managed to find the last hideout you were in a week ago, so I knew I had to move fast to get to the next area you usually move to. So that I could speak with you.”  
  
Raijax growled irritably as he started to pace around the cave. “Even if... even if you helped me... even if you gave me my name... why should I come with you? Why leave? I... I have a good life... Good, very good...”  
  
Lermor snorted in disbelief. “Please, are you serious? You’re not happy here, Raijax, you’re  _hunted._ You move up and down the coast to your different hide-outs because every time you stay in one place for too long, more and more people trying to hunt-fish,  _whatever!-_ you down. How long do you think you can keep this up, Raijax? Do you  _really_ want to live life on the run, always afraid? Do you  _want_ to keep hurting innocent fishers!?”  
  
“NO!” Raijax snarled furiously.  _“Didn’t_ want to! Never wanted to! Always hurt me first, always attacked Raijax first! Smelled blood, and... and then everything went  _red!_ Like always! Didn’t want to! Didn’t...” Raijax shuddered violently as he bowed his head, clutching at his head miserably. “Didn’t want to...”  
  
“I know that, I know...” Lermor soothed hastily. “But... look. The fact is... that this? Running and fighting... that’s, that’s just not all there is to life! It can’t be! It...” He scrunched his eyes shut and growled under his breath. “It just can’t...” He hastily shook his head, dispelling the thoughts and growling ferociously. “You  _need_ to leave the sea at some point, Raijax. You might have been born in it, but if you stay there forever... you’ll die there too.”  
  
Raijax stared into the fire for a moment before sighing and giving Lermor a sad look. “I... am not... s-smart? Smart... Not know a lot... Raijax... Raijax’s whole life... is the sea...”  
  
“But  _mine_ is everywhere else,” Lermor interjected, standing up and placing a hand on Raijax’s shoulder. “I can show you the land, teach you what you don’t know, I  _promise_ you. Just come with me. You help me... and I’ll help you. So... what do you say?”  
  
Raijax stared into the fire silently before finally looking back at Lermor, his answer obvious in his eyes.  
  


**-o-**

  
KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK!  
  
“HEY BARKEEP! OPEN UP!”  
  
There was a brief moment of cursing and banging before the bar’s door was opened by its irate owner.  
  
“You better have a damn good reason-!” The siluris’ protests died off as he caught sight of Lermor. “Oh, it’s you. What are you doing here? Get cold feet?”  
  
“You still have my stuff?”  
  
“It hasn’t even been a  _day,_ friend. Honestly, no shame in shying away from the Scourge. What, you unable to find a boat or something?”  
  
“Or something.” Lermor pushed the door open and strode in, walking towards where he’d left his affairs. “By the way, those three sell-swords? Yeah, they’re not coming back.”  
  
“Well ain’t that a... cryin’...” The bartender trailed off as a second figure followed Lermor in. The siluris was silent as Raijax looked around the bar curiously, his heavy feet slapping on the ground. Finally, he spoke up. “This... he... you said ‘hunting’. Is he...?”  
  
Raijax poked his fingers together nervously. “M-my name is Raijax. I-I hurt... a few people who live around here... and took a lot of the fish... I... I’m sorry...”  
  
The siluris stared at him silently for a moment before turning to look at Lermor as he walked out of the back, a large hiker’s backpack loaded with gear on his back. “Boy, you just simultaneously killed a lot of my business  _and_ brought it back for the rest of the town. I have  _got_ to know... what the  _hell_ do you think you’re gonna do next!?”  
  
“Next?” Lermor chuckled as he dug a stick of dried meat from a pocket in his pack and dropped it into Raijax’s hand. “Now we’re heading to Valaer.”  
  
“Valaer. Mind telling me  _why_ you’re going to that Mother-forsaken mammalia-on-aquidae political turf war?”  
  
“Because that’s where the Hook is going next.”  
  
“... you realize that telling me your goal is a  _master thief_ just raises  _more_ questions, right!?”  
  
“Then this is going to raise even more: by the time we leave that city, with any luck he’ll be coming with me as a comrade.”  
  
“... son, you are insane. If you live, swing on by, drinks are on me!”


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 4 - Fang**

  
“Really? Nuthin’?” The oa’cra raised an eyeridge at his prisoner before sighing and starting to stomp forwards. “Well, alright then. Guess that’ll teach me. No more live captures, Mordus, no more. From now on, just munch ‘em. Ungrateful little...”  
  
Steelfang hissed in panic as he snapped his head up and worked his body into an upright position. “No no, wait a second, sands take you!” He snapped, both his tone and voice extremely dry. “I’ll speak to you, alright! But first... is there any chance whatsoever of me talking you out of this?”  
  
Mordus’s expression fell into a flat stare as he stopped. “The last bloke that wandered by here was a scrawny formi’dae. And I  _hate_  vol’cris. Chewy and crunchy, ergh. So no.” Nevertheless, he folded his legs and sat down. “Still, I’m willin’ to wait a tad or so before gettin’ me munchies. Get some good conversation before I kill ya stone dead.”  
  
Steelfang’s eye twitched slightly. “You’re a callous egg-breaker, aren’t you?”  
  
The porosus snorted in disdain as he allowed his massive jaws to form a scowl. “Don’t tell me you’re so soft-scaled that you get queasy with blood.”  
  
The orbanak snorted in turn. “Of course not. But still, you don’t normally see people so jaded and casual with death unless they’re far older than you are.”  
  
Mordus shrugged casually as he idly picked at one of his teeth. “What can I say? I’ve seen my fair share of fightin’. Tons before comin’ here, didn’t slow down that much after. If anythin’ it sped up a bit.”  
  
Steelfang hummed in acknowledgement as he took in the porosus’s form. True to his word, now that his eyes had adjusted to the dark and he was looking at him properly, he could make out parts of his body where his scales were gone, leaving behind discolored scars of unprotected skin. A testament to his experience.  
  
“Well then, Mordus?” He waited until the reptilian person nodded. “What brought you here? And... what  _have_  you been doing?”  
  
“Eh, not that much of a story.” Mordus yawned slightly as he cracked his neck back and forth. “Me and the band I was with at the time got caught in a famine of a storm between oases, and wouldn’t ya know it, the damn rope broke, took a tumble and lost damn near everythin’ on me. By the time I could see the stars, I wasn’t anywhere near somewhere I could get to. Started wandering towards the nearest location I recognized and wound up here. Survived for a bit on fruits and a few local beasties, but didn’t stop the fact that I was hungry.  
  
“Didn’t have much chance a goin’ out there without equipment, so I stayed put. Slept in the water durin’ the day, exercised at night, sometimes day too when I could cut it. Then, somebody came.” He shrugged slightly. “Hard to say who it was, or when exactly, but they just stumbled in. Ran straight to the water, filled up. I made to say hello, but when they saw me, well...” He grinned, displaying his full set of teeth. “I ain’t the most invitin’ lookin’ o’ types, so he just went straight at me with a little toothpick he was carryin’. Barely even lasted a minute. After that, well...” Mordus had the decency to look slightly sheepish as he tilted his head away. “He was a rottin’ body, I was damn hungry and I’d done it plenty o’ times before. What more can I say?”  
  
“Oh, no, I completely understand,” Steelfang nodded solemnly. “Survive at all costs, right?”  
  
“Right, right,” Mordus nodded in agreement. “Well, anyways, had my meal, checked out his gear, then... well...” He sighed and looked up at the stars. “I... got around to thinkin’. This place is a good mid-point, good traffic but not too high. Not a lot of communication between... er...”  
  
“Still Lataros and Petran, and yeah, not a lotta talk. Leaders have shifted, of course.” The rivan’in supplied.  
  
“Course, course, goes without sayin’,” Mordus waved him off. “Anyways, as I was sayin’, known but isolated. So, I thought to myself... this was easy. Why not... just stay? So I did. It’s been pretty damn easy: just wait for someone to wander in and head for the water. Then, before they know it, snap munch an’ crunch. Had a few tough blokes now and again, few big stel’lio and vol’cris, got sick a few times from the ra’na, but it’s lasted shorter and shorter each time.”  
  
“And here we are today, with me still alive simply because I still had enough water and I just wanted to sleep.” Steelfang concluded.  
  
“It’s a life. Bit monotonous, sure, but I eat, drink, sleep... live.” Mordus shrugged and folded his arms behind his head. “What can I say? It’s better than out there. Here, I’ve got a damn lower chance a’ dyin’. That’s all a person needs, in my opinion.”  
  
“No, I agree with you there,” Steelfang nodded. “But... well... that’s all you need, sure, but what about what you want?”  
  
Mordus snorted derisively. “‘Want’. What are you, some fur-brained Niranian? Nobody and nothing gives a damn about ‘want’. Not if they’ve got a survival instinct worth their scales. Not me, not everyone else...” He leered flatly at his captive. “And not you. You wouldn’t be carryin’ those blades or be so old or tough if you really, truly ‘wanted’ anythin’.”  
  
“Maybe I’m different.” Steelfang proposed.  
  
“HA!” Mordus barked out a harsh laugh. “Yeah! And maybe one day it’ll rain! This is  _Balta,_  you utter moron! We’re all the same here! Beneath the chitin and the skin and the scales, it don’t matter. You, me, and everyone else in the famine-damned hole: one and the same. No exceptions.”  
  
Steelfang was silent for a moment before sighing and bowing his head. “Wish I could disagree with you. I really do. So... what now? Youre going to eat me?”  
  
“Might start a fire, first.” Mordus admitted. “Most times I’ve snapped people up, it’s been fast and furious, not a lot to salvage, so I just ate them as were. Be nice to actually get somethin’  _cooked._  You got any spices on you by any chance?”  
  
“Bit a salt an’ pepper in my bag, keeps the meat fresh and gives it flavor. While we’re on the subject, got some jerkey too. Don’t remember  _what_  it is though...” The orbanak was silent for a moment before shaking his head. “Eh, anyways... what are you going to do  _after_  you eat me?”  
  
“Wot I do every time I eat!” The porosus spread his arms wide. “Check out yer stuff, see if you’re carrying anything useful, and then stash it. Water-resistant stuff in the bottom of the oasis, bury everythin’ else as deep in the sands as I can manage. Don’t want this place lookin’ like the graveyard it is, you know? People might get spooked. Though...” He began to snicker. “Considerin’ how this is an oasis, I doubt it’d make much of a difference.”  
  
“Riiiight. And therein lies the problem.” Steelfang tilted his head to the side. “What will you do when someone stronger comes along? Someone... who can kill you?”  
  
Mordus froze momentarily before sighing and bowing his head. “Then... I’ll die. Not much I can do about that, is there? Eat ‘til you’re eaten. It’s how it’s been. Is. Will be. Whatever. Eh, it’s not like I can actually change it. Just gotta live with it for as long as I can.”  
  
“That’s no way to live.” The serpent-man stated.  
  
His captor shook his head flatly. “No. It isn’t. It’s  _the_  way to live.”  
  
“Why?”  
  
Mordus blinked in surprise. “Huh?”  
  
“I asked...” Steelfang repeated slowly. “Why? Why live this way?”  
  
Mordus blinked again before scowling furiously. “Do you have sand between your head?! It’s the easiest way to-”  
  
“I  _mean_  why live like  _this_  in general?” Steelfang scowled. “Why live with our fangs at one another’s necks? Why does it have to be kill or be killed?”  
  
Mordus was openly staring at him in shock by this point. “Sweet sandy shit, you  _do_  have sand in your head! I already damn well told you, it’s  _always_ been like this! It’s  _always_  been about survival of the fittest! This isn’t Niran, you egg-brained idiot. We don’t have the resources to be ‘civilized’. We do what we need to to stay alive! Only nutjobs  _like_  it, but it’s how we stay alive!”  
  
“But does it  _have_  to be how we stay alive?” The orbanak demanded. “Do we  _have_  to keep fighting like this!? I  _know_  that the Niranian way of life isn’t perfect, that much is obvious, but it’s damn well better than here!”  
  
“But that’s  _Niran!”_  The porosus snarled, slashing his hand through the air. “We  _can’t_  live like that!”  
  
“Can’t? Or  _won’t?”_  Steelfang shot back. “Have we ever  _tried?_  Ever given it a chance?”  
  
“No one would dare to be so stupid as to try!” Mordus stood up, towering over the rivan’in. “It’s a futile exercise, doomed to failure!”  
  
“Well someone has to try.” Steelfang hissed, glaring up at his captor.  
  
For a moment, silence reigned over the oasis.  
  
Finally, the swordsperson continued. “Someone. Has. To try. If someone doesn’t... then we’ll be stuck like this forever. We’ll eat and eat and eat... until we’re all dead and gone. That’s what happened to the acri’dae. It’ll happen to us.”  
  
Mordus was silent as he contemplated the words before huffing and looking away. “Either way... what does it matter? You’re a dead man. Your ideals are gonna bite it with you.”  
  
“They don’t have to.”  
  
The massive oa’cra snarled and bared his fangs at his captive. “And  _there’s_  the honesty. I let you go and you’ll go on to preach the ideals of peace to the world, while I remain here and starve. Tsk, pathetic.”  
  
Steelfang shook his head solemnly. “Wrong. I leave to do my business... and you come with me.”  
  
Mordus blinked stupidly before leaning forwards. “Come again?”  
  
“You. Come. With me.” Steelfang repeated. “I have plans.  _Big_  plans. They’re rough... but they could do with someone like you. Someone strong. Resolute.”  
  
“And I’d... what, help you spread the good word to the world or something?” Mordus scoffed, gesturing at himself. “Dunno if you’ve noticed, but I ain’t the most kindly-lookin' of beings.”  
  
“Actually, you’d be doing the ‘or something’.” Steelfang allowed himself to smirk slightly.  
  
Mordus opened and closed his mouth for a second before clamping his jaws shut. He started to walk back and forth across the sand, muttering and scowling to himself as he buried himself in his thoughts. Finally, he shot Steelfang a dark look. “If I leave this place with you... there’s a damn-good chance that I could die.”  
  
“It’s a guarantee that we’ll both die one way or another, sooner or later.” Steelfang retorted in a flat tone of voice. He then cocked an eyeridge. “The question, though, is whether or not you want to do it at the hands of prey too big for you... or in some real and lasting way that actually makes a difference? Well,” He tilted his head to the side in acknowledgement. “That or devoured by the desert, but hey, too big a storm and that would happen anyways.”  
  
Mordus returned to his pacing, muttering, grumbling, scowling and spitting furiously.  
  
This went on for nearly half an hour. Finally...  
  
The oa’cra’s scowl was easily visible as he slapped his forehead in frustration. “I’m insane. I am  _totally_  cracked.”  
  
“Perfect!” Steelfang finally allowed himself to grin sadistically. “I need crazy for this work.”  
  
“Shut up before you talk yourself back into my stomach...” Mordus growled as he marched behind the bound orbanak, leaned over and undid the knots on him.  
  
“Heh, get used to it.” Steelfang snorted as he got to his feet, rubbing his wrists through his armor. “We’re going to be working together for awhile.”  
  
“Don’t remind me...” The porosus scowled as he turned and started to stomp back towards the oasis. “Anyways, I’m going to go back to the bottom, pick up what gear and supplies I can carry, and then we’ll head out.”  
  
“Fair enough. Oh, and I almost forgot to tell you something!”  
  
“Mph?” Mordus grunted noncommittally, not turning his head.  
  
“My name is Steelfang.”  
  
“Mm-wait...” Mordus froze in his steps, blinking as the information hit his mind before suddenly widening his eyes in horror. He groaned and scrunched his eyes shut. “You have got to be kidding me... I didn’t even know his- _grgghhh..._ ” He looked over his shoulder and gave his new compatriot a tired look. “Why me? Just... tell me that. Why choose me to work alongside you?”  
  
Steelfang smirked ever so slightly as he allowed his tongue to flicker past his lips. “Choose? My friend, I don’t understand a word you’re saying. I’m just a humble traveler on their way to Lataros from Petran who had the good fortune to hear the location of a little-known oasis in the dunes midway through.”  
  
Mordus choked as he stared at the rivan’in in disbelief. “Y-you’re serious...” He moaned and turned his eyes heavenwards. “We’re screwed. Legitimately screwed.”  
  
Steelfang let out a raspy chuckle as he watched the oa’cra stumble towards the water. “Don’t despair yet, my friend. After all...”  
  
He turned his head and gave the stars a contemplative look.  
  
“We’ve only just begun.”


	6. Species Index

**Species Index  
**

**Mammalia -** Mammal

  * **Lupin -** Wolf
  * **Tauros -** Cattle
  * **Scrofus -** Boar



**  
Aquidae -** Aquatic Creatures

  * **Siluris -** Catfish
  * **Chordata -**  Shark
  * **\-----Chondrich -** Great White



**  
Aves -** Bird

  * **Laridae -** Seagull



**  
Stel'lio -** Reptile

  * **Rivan'in -** Snake
  * **\-----Orbanak -** Cobra
  * **Oa'cra -** Crocodile
  * **\-----Porosus -** Saltwater Crocodile



**  
Vol'cris -** Insect

  * **Formi'dae -** Ant
  * **Acri'dae -** Locust



**  
Ra'na -** Amphibian


End file.
